


de acantilados, de mis días pesados

by 121215_04012016



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:43:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/121215_04012016/pseuds/121215_04012016
Summary: Yuzuru and Javier talk after Javier’s short program at Europeans.





	de acantilados, de mis días pesados

**Author's Note:**

> the ISU has given me so many reasons to hate this sport in the last week lmao.
> 
> edit: i realize i actually have no clue who is/isn’t at TCC right now. i assumed tracy is because i didn’t see her with javi and brian at euros, but i realize now jason is definitely in detroit for nats, and that tracy is likely with him. so i guess pls use your imagination and pretend that this fic takes place in a world where us nats isn’t at the same time as euros and jun is in toronto.

“Bullshit!” Junhwan yells. 

“91.84?!” Evgenia exclaims. 

“There’s no way that Salchow was underrotated,” Jason says.

Tracy sighs. “Kids, please. Remember what I said last night? And an hour ago? And thirty minutes ago? That we could only use the rink’s TV to watch Euros if you all agreed that there would be no yelling?” She looks pointedly at Jun. “Or cursing?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “But you saw how unfair that was, Tracy! The judges totally screwed him!”

“Who taught you how to curse in English?” Evgenia asks. 

Jun frowns. “Um, myself?”

“Can you teach me?” 

Tracy groans. “No one is teaching anyone how to curse in any language! Please, just go get warmed up. We need to start stroking practice by eleven, because Ghislain is going to be in at one to work on your jumps.” 

“What’s the point?” Yuzuru grumbles, speaking for the first time since Javier took to the ice. He’s glaring at the carpeted floor of the rink’s rec-room, looking murderous. “I think we all just saw that technically perfect jumps don’t count for anything.”

“Oh, Yuzu. Maybe they saw something that we didn’t see. They have a different angle,” Tracy says gently. 

Yuzuru shakes his head furiously. “No. The same happened to him at the Olympics, in the free. I don’t know why I thought this would be different.” 

“He’ll make up the points on Saturday,” Jason assures him, and with the risk of having his hand ripped off, places it on Yuzuru’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort. 

“But he shouldn’t have to,” Yuzuru insists. “They should have given him the points he deserved for the Salchow.” He ignores the hand on his shoulder and unfolds himself from the ball he curled into on the old sofa that he’s sitting on with Jason, and launches himself to his feet. “I’m going to call him,” he declares. 

“Under no circumstances are you going to call Javi,” Tracy says sternly. “He has a press conference to go to, and you have to get ready for stroking practice.” 

“Tracy,” Yuzuru all but whines. “He needs me.” 

Tracy looks skyward, praying to anyone who will listen for some of her so-called legendary patience to kick in. “Yuzu, he has Brian, and his family, and everyone from the Spanish Federation. He’ll be fine.”

“But he doesn’t have me.”

“You can FaceTime with him after the press conference,” Evgenia says eagerly. “Um, once you finish practice,” she amends, after catching sight of the look that Tracy is sending her way.

“I should be FaceTiming with him now. No, I should be in Minsk.” Yuzuru sighs. “Fine. Stroking practice, then I can call Javi?” he pleads. “By the time we finish with jumps it will be so late in Minsk, and he needs his rest.” 

“Javi was right, you really are like his wife,” Jun mumbles, just low enough for Evgenia, who’s sitting beside him on the other couch, to hear. She snickers and punches his shoulder. 

“Yes, you can call him on your break,” Tracy agrees. “If he’s finished with the press conference by then, which he should be. Now, all of you, go warm up before I add another thirty minutes to your practice,” she says, smiling sweetly at them. “And that isn’t a threat, that’s a promise.” 

Yuzuru has a scowl on his face as he leads them all out of the rec-room, towards the benches by the side of the rink where their skate bags wait for them. “I hate Russian judges.” 

“Me too,” Evgenia says.

*

Yuzuru survives Tracy’s practice. He ends up in better shape than the others, but he’s heaving for breath by the time he gets off the ice. He knows he pushed himself a little too far, but he needed to work the rage out of his system. He realizes now that it was a good thing Tracy wouldn’t let him talk to Javier when he was angry; Javier didn’t need that, not right now. He needs Yuzuru clear headed and supportive. What he doesn’t need is a Yuzuru who’s ready to murder an ISU sanctioned Judge.

He gets off the ice and goes through the motions of taking off his skates. He wipes down his blades, put his soakers on as a precaution, even though he won’t be off the ice very long, and places his skates neatly inside his suitcase. 

Once that’s finished, and he has his sneakers on, he checks the time in Minsk. It isn’t too late, only nine. Javier should be up, but Yuzuru wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already asleep, considering the kind of day he’s had. 

Yuzuru gets up from the bench and makes his way to Tracy’s empty office, which she let him use for privacy’s sake. And on the condition that he stops talking about Javier’s scores for the rest of practice. 

Yuzuru opens up his FaceTime app as he walks, and selects Javier’s name, accompanied by three different heart emojis. He picks up almost immediately, just as Yuzuru is letting himself inside Tracy’s office with the key she gave him. 

Javier looks tired, but not anymore than he usually does at a competition. He’s laying in bed, and he still has his training clothes on. “Hey, cari,” he says. He sounds tired, too, but not defeated. It comes as a relief. Yuzuru was worried about that. “I was wondering when you would call.” 

“Hey, guapo,” Yuzuru murmurs, teasing, his tongue curling awkwardly as he attempts to pronounce the Spanish endearment. “I wanted to, right when you left the Kiss and Cry, but Tracy wouldn’t let me.” 

Javier chuckles. “I’m glad you didn’t. I was pissed. I’m sure Brian will tell you I wasn’t very pleasant to talk to.” 

Yuzuru sighs and lays himself down on the small couch in Tracy’s office, his feet dangling off the side of the armrest. “I know. You looked so upset, I wished I was there with you. I wanted to hug you so badly.” 

“Yeah, Brian said it was like dealing with you at Worlds in 2017.” 

Yuzuru pouts. “So? That just means you’ll be coming home with a gold medal.” 

Javier grins sheepishly, like a child who’s done something bad. “Maybe. I got a little...eh, mouthy, at the press conference.”

That piques Yuzuru’s interest. “What do you mean?” 

“I almost wish you had already seen it for yourself. I’m not sure if you’ll be mad or proud of me.” 

“Oh my god, Javi, what did you do?” Yuzuru is torn between excitement and feeling like he’s going to throw up as he opens up Google and goes searching for a transcript of the press conference. He finds one easily, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head before he even makes it to the first word Javier said. “Javier Fernández from Russia?!” 

Javier grimaces. “I know.” 

Yuzuru groans. “Why are they all so - so - what’s the word in English, Javi? It starts with an I?” 

“Incompetent?”

“Yes! First they say I’m from China, and now this,” he grumbles. He grows quiet as he starts to read Javier’s actual statement, and he feels his bad mood begin to settle in again. He doesn’t like being reminded that this is Javier’s last competition, and he hates even more that they had so little time to train together beforehand. More than that, he hates that Javier is being disrespected like this. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Yuzuru says. He can feel tears stinging his eyes, and he hopes Javier isn’t able to see that in the low light of Tracy’s office. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you for saying what you needed to say. You’re a little bit of an idiot, though.” Yuzuru worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “The judges won’t like this, Javi.”

Javier sighs. He sounds exhausted, suddenly, in a way he didn’t before. “I know. I was angry, and maybe I shouldn’t have run my mouth. We both know I get in trouble when that happens. But it’s my last competition, and I don’t care that much about the title, or the gold medal.” 

“Don’t say that,” Yuzuru says, desperate. “Please don’t.” Yuzuru wants that gold medal for Javier just as badly as he wanted the one from Pyeongchang for himself. “I can’t stand the way they’re treating you. Like you aren’t one of the top skaters in the world, or an Olympic medalist. You deserve so much more.”

“Yuzu, I know,” he says. “And that’s why I spoke up. Would it be nice, to finish my career as a seven time European champion? Yes. Of course I want that. I want it badly. But this was more important.” He falls quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again his eyes look sad. “They’ve done it to you before, too. Lots of times. And you can’t do anything about it, I know, there’s too much at risk. But I can, now. There’s nothing more they can hold against me, not after this.”

Yuzuru realizes he’s crying when his vision begins to blur. “I know, I know,” he says, his breath catching in his throat as he struggles to get his words out. “And I know you won’t go without fighting. I know you’ll do good, Javi, so good.”

“Oh, cariño, please don’t cry. Especially not over my Salchow,” he jokes, or tries to, but it’s hard when Yuzuru is sitting there, thousands of miles away and crying because of him.

Yuzuru sniffs and uses his sleeve to wipe at his eyes. “I cried over your Salchow in Pyeongchang and I’ll cry over it now, Mr. Fernández, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

Javier beams at him, and the warmth from that smile is so great that Yuzuru swears he can feel it through the screen. “I love you.”

“Stop it!” Yuzuru whines, trying not to giggle. “You’re going to make me cry more.” 

“I have a habit of doing that,” Javier points out. “But please don’t worry about me, Yuzu. There’s so much more left, after Saturday. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine,” Yuzuru repeats, and with Javier smiling back at him, he knows what they’re saying is true. 

“I’ll give it my all on Saturday,” Javier promises. “Nothing less.” 

“I know. I love you too, Javi.” He sits up and wipes at his eyes and cheeks one last time, removing the last of the remaining tears from his face.

“Now get back to training before Tracy kills you, okay? I’m sure she’s going crazy trying to manage all of you.” 

“She might be bald before Brian gets back,” Yuzuru admits. “And you get to bed. You need your rest for practice.”

Javier laughs, bright and loud. He doesn’t sound exhausted, not anymore. “I know, I know, I’m going. Te quiero, Yuzuru.”

“Te quiero, Javier.”

**Author's Note:**

> i guess i can only be productive when i’m angry or sad? anyway. i tried to be vague with this for obvious reasons but i was going for something reflective and positive, as well as respectful to the situation. hopefully that’s how it turned out.
> 
> i don’t know why one or both of these two always end up crying in my fics but here we are. 
> 
> the title is a lyric from prometo and roughly translates to ‘my cliffs and my heavy days’ or more literally ‘from cliffs, from my heavy days’. 
> 
> guapo means ‘handsome’ in spanish. latin american spanish speakers use it as an endearment, and from what i could gather from a short google search castilian speakers use it in the same way. as always if i got this or anything else wrong please correct me!


End file.
